


Res Ipsa Loquitur

by shewasjustagirl



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 00:30:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14344164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewasjustagirl/pseuds/shewasjustagirl
Summary: Two young attorneys from opposite sides of the courtroom meet and hit it off right away.





	Res Ipsa Loquitur

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LinksLipsSinkShips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinksLipsSinkShips/gifts).



> I've been wanting to write them as attorneys since Food Court on GMM 1229. Here goes nothing.

Young prosecutors don’t generally wear Armani suits. 

Rhett looked down at the hand-me-down suit he wore, the way it landed just a bit too low on his hips in order to meet his socks just above his ankles, his legs far too long and inseam far too short, even after having the hems taken out. The grey material was hanging on with a well-worn brown leather belt, and the pants matched the slouchy look of his torso, where he was neither broad nor thick enough to fill out the jacket’s chest.

He did have one suit that fit him relatively well, he’d purchased it on sale at a low-end department store, but he couldn’t wear it every day. Now he was wishing today had been one of the days he’d put it on. 

The young lawyer he’d just sparred with couldn’t possibly be making enough money at his job as an entry level prosecutor to be able to afford the perfectly-fitted dark blue suit he was wearing. Not that suit and rent. Or food. Or shoes, which were the only remotely new-looking part of Rhett’s ensemble. 

“Hey, uh,” Rhett caught the young attorney in the wide, heavily-trafficked hall. He wasn’t clumsy, and his shoes fit well, but he was followed down the hall by a wave of loose fabric. “Neal, right? I’d like to talk to you about a few of my clients.”

The young prosecutor turned on his heels, having been hustling uncharacteristically quickly away from the courtroom. “Ah. Yeah. Hi. Charles Neal.” The young man looked up into Rhett’s eyes and offered him an outstretched hand. Any embarrassment over the loss he’d just suffered, suggested by his pace only moments before, was gone and indignance took its place. “You have some more drug dealers you’re trying to get off the hook?”

“Rhett McLaughlin. Nice to officially meet you,” he grinned, knowing the young prosecutor would rather talk about the quality of his clients than the fact that he’d just lost a case, more or less. The judge had granted Rhett’s pretrial motion, and without the evidence he’d been prevented from using, Neal didn’t have a case. “He was just a kid. If your cop hadn’t performed an illegal search, you might have been able to throw another 17 year old behind bars.” Rhett resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead returned Charles Neal’s steadfast gaze. “And yeah, I have some other clients with similar stories.”

Charles began walking back toward his office and gestured for Rhett to follow him. Moving his briefcase to his right hand, Rhett took up a place near Charles’s right side, a step behind despite his long legs. 

“Can your clients even pay you? You can’t be working pro bono for everyone,” Charles remarked, almost to himself, as if he didn’t expect an answer. For a moment, he glanced back and looked Rhett over, making it clear that he’d noticed the state of his clothes. 

“Well, this one set up a payment plan. Now that you can’t throw away his chances, he’s got a job lined up,” Rhett retorted, a smile in his voice now. Charles missed a step as he looked over his shoulder, prepared with a snarky remark. He didn’t get his chance. “It’s all above board. I verified with the pharmacy that he’d really gotten the job.”

“A drug store?” Neal stopped in his tracks. “You’re making this too easy.” 

“I can do you one better,” Rhett grinned as he continued walking. “Two others had their churches take up an offering for me.”

 

When they arrived in a small office with fluorescent lighting and sets of heavy legal books lining the walls, Charles invited Rhett in, moving a pile of paperwork from a chair in front of his desk and offering it before moving around the desk to his own. 

Rhett dropped his briefcase onto the hard leather upholstery and remained standing, resting one hand on the back of the chair and leaning against it. “About those clients. Are you interested in discussing some sort of deal? If you’ll settle for misdemeanor charges, I’ll advise most of them to take a plea.” 

“It’s been a long day,” Neal removed his suit jacket and hung it up on a small coat rack in the corner of the room. He began rolling up his shirt sleeves, exposing his forearms, and Rhett was suddenly struck by what he hadn’t recognized before as nearly-oppressive heat in the room. Sensing Rhett’s discomfort, Charles explained. “The air conditioning in this building can only be switched over from heat to cool once a season. If they expect there might be another cold snap, we can be stuck with heat through April.”

Rhett nodded, wiping a drop of sweat from his brow and attempting not to stare at the attractive young man in his shirtsleeves. 

“It’s not as bad in the courtrooms,” Charles added as Rhett began examining the photos on the one bookshelf that hadn’t been completely filled with copies of the Federal Reporter. “Higher ceilings, you know?”

Rhett looked back over his shoulder. “Is that a tall person joke? If so, it’s one of the lamest I’ve ever heard.”

Charles chuckled. “No, just an observation. Though if you were much taller, you’d have to get a second pair of pants. Or perhaps there’s a basketball player somewhere who could give you one leg of his pants to make a pair out of.”

“Oh,” Rhett sighed audibly, having tuned out the young prosecutor when his eyes fell on a framed 4x6 picture. It was a group of businesspeople at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. In the photo, Charles, appearing about ten years younger, was standing next to Walter Neal, a locally famous businessman. The richest man in town.

Neal. It hadn’t hit him when he heard the name. Now, the man’s smug air in court and his $3,000 suit were starting to make sense. As in Neal Tractor and Construction Enterprises? No wonder this guy has fancy clothes. 

“Yeah,” Charles was peeking around Rhett’s side from behind him. “That group of Neals.”

Rhett turned on his heels and Charles remained in place, a little too close for politeness among virtual strangers, particularly when it was this warm. Rhett raised one eyebrow, unwilling to voice his discomfort, and waited for the other man to speak. 

“So. You want to talk about those clients of yours over a drink?”

Rhett thought for a moment of his nearly-empty checking account and the savings that would only just cover his next month’s rent. A personal meeting with a prosecutor could mean getting his clients get better plea deals or even convincing Neal that it would be better to drop some of the charges against them than to face more embarrassment in court. And despite his arrogant manner, the attractive young man would be good company. On the other hand, even rail drinks would leave Rhett eating instant ramen this weekend.

Charles seemed to sense his hesitation. He reached for his jacket on the coat rack and added, “I’m buying. We can’t have you paying for drinks with a church’s money.”

 

The bar was a small dive, a short walk around the corner from the courthouse. Rhett had been there a few times, but never with any company. He ducked low as they descended a short staircase and Charles led them to a booth near the back, nodding toward the bartender as he passed. Rhett was struck by how at ease the man seemed in a room that altogether clashed with his appearance. Where his suit was tailored to the smallest detail on his body, the tables and chairs were mismatched and ancient. Where his movements were clear and precise, the room was covered in a strange combination of sports memorabilia, half-working neon beer ads, and old holiday decorations.

“Low-level drug felonies,” Neal said as he sat down on the side of the booth facing the door, arranging himself much more quickly than Rhett, who tossed his briefcase ahead of him before fighting the pants’ extra material out from under his thighs. 

“Oh gosh, you weren’t kidding. We haven’t even ordered drinks,” Rhett murmured, taking a moment to look over his shoulder and back toward Neal. The young man tipped his head in Rhett’s direction, resting a hand pensively across his mouth. _What did you expect?_ the expression seemed to say. Rhett continued, more confidently now, “Straight to the point. Right. Yes, several of my clients are facing felony charges, and they shouldn’t be.”

“Because they’re kids?” Charles mused.

“For starters, yes, some of them are,” Rhett could feel heat rising in his cheeks, the flush he felt when pressed on the topic. He always tried to argue his position calmly with men like Charles, but there was a level of social responsibility that informed his practice, and the calm, bemused look he received only incensed him further. “And the fact that they never would have been searched if they weren’t minorities, and the fact that throwing them in jail will only ever make their lives and ours worse, and the fact --”

“Sir?” 

A middle-aged waitress in jeans and a bar-branded polo carried a tray with two drinks. The way she announced herself and waited for Charles’s approval, Rhett could only assume she knew there were often sensitive conversations happening in these booths. 

“Thank you,” Charles smiled pleasantly at the woman, winking as he said “y’all can start a tab.”

The smile stayed in place and his eyes followed her as she walked away, his gaze jerking back to Rhett when she had gotten a few tables away. “You like whiskey?” The short glasses each held a small amount of an amber liquid and no ice. 

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” In the time it had taken for the waitress to walk away, Rhett had convinced himself to keep his cool. He took a sip from the glass in front of him and his eyes went wide. “I started to say I usually get Coke with my whiskey, but I never order the good stuff.”

Charles was clearly pleased at Rhett’s reaction, a sly smile appearing across his face as he raised his glass. “To you, may you always give the state a run for its money,” he proposed, tipping the glass toward Rhett. “To motions in limine and Class B misdemeanors,” Rhett replied, clinking their glasses together and taking another sip. He refused to drop Charles’s gaze, the bright blue eyes peeking back at him over the top of the glass, until Charles downed the expensive whiskey in one shot.

“Class B? You think minor possession is all we should be talking about here?”

“I think you know that none of these kids are kingpins,” Rhett fired back. 

The edges of Charles’s mouth turned upward as he stared into Rhett. “Fine,” he blinked, glancing toward the briefcase sitting next to Rhett. “Show me what you’ve got.”

The waitress continued to bring drinks, leaving an extra next to Rhett’s first glass on the second round and rolling her eyes when he still hadn’t finished either of them as she handed Charles his third. Rhett had been talking for 45 minutes, opening case files and plopping them between himself and the young prosecutor on the table, recounting the evidence against his clients and the backstories he’d learned from meeting them and their families. 

Finally, Charles broke in. “It’s pretty incredible what you do, Rhett. But as much as you love these people, you can’t expect all of their sob stories to matter to the state.”

Rhett felt the heat returning to his cheeks and he took a deep swig from one of the two glasses in front of him, emptying it. “You let me tell you all these stories and you’re just going to --”

“Hey.” Charles’s hand was on Rhett’s in the center of the table now, and his eyes were once again staring through him. “I’m not _just_ going to anything. I’m trying to give you some advice. You’re supposed to advocate for each of them individually. Not pretend they’re all the same.”

One by one, Charles handed the files back to Rhett. “Williams got involved with heroin. You said he’s not a user, which is good for him personally but will hurt him with the court, and you know this state is cracking down on opioids. If he knows something, he needs to start talking about a deal to expose his supplier. But you should be prepared for that one to be a felony.

“Rodriguez and Simpson were smoking pot. They had too much on them, but they’re 17 and it’s a first offense. Let’s talk on Monday about Class B, community service and counseling.

“Tell Perez she can plead out. Class A, 60 days in jail. She’ll serve 30 and you should be able to get her in our drug court program and maybe some parenting classes. It’s not a felony, so she shouldn’t have trouble with housing.

“And you,” Charles said to the final file. “Washington. Turned 17 two days before being pulled over in a friend’s car. Weed in the glove box.”

Rhett nodded, mentally taking note of all the concessions the young prosecutor had just offered. Williams was still in for a fight, but the others would take the pleas, having all been convinced that the hot shot young attorney assigned to their cases would throw the book at them. But it was Alfred Washington’s case that had moved Rhett the most. He seemed like a good kid, and Rhett could see the fear in his eyes when his guardian, his grandmother, asked Rhett if public defenders ever won their cases.

“I say we drop the charges on Washington.”

“Drop the…” Rhett took in the sincere expression on Charles’s face. “Drop?”

Charles handed Rhett the file. “Pulled over for failing to signal, legally driving a friend’s car, no drugs in his system. What do you say this young man gets another shot without a possession charge on his record?”

Rhett smiled broadly for the first time in a long while and extended his hand, holding it there until Neal took his and shook it. “Thank you, Charles. Truly. Alfred’s family will be ecstatic.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” Neal grinned, still holding Rhett’s hand firm. “I have a feeling you would have kicked my ass in court again if I’d pursued the case. You want another drink?”

When Rhett shook his head, Charles flagged down the waitress, finally releasing Rhett’s hand, and asked for his check. “So tell me, Rhett, how did you get into this, anyway?”

Rhett sipped what remained of his second drink as he shared stories about law school and about his childhood, passionately explaining his vision for a more just court system and the desperate need for good defense lawyers, even and especially for people who couldn’t pay. He told Charles that he’d taken a job as a corporate attorney, hoping the firm’s pro-bono assistance program would give him the opportunity to do some good even as he made good money. “So then, as a first year associate, we had a client, civil case at the time, threaten to walk away. Said they didn’t want to take a handout, can you believe that? So they were planning to represent themselves.”

“And you know what they say about a man who has himself for a client,” Charles chuckled, taking a final sip from his glass.

“Right. It _would_ have been foolish. It would’ve been a disaster. I convinced the partners to keep the case and charge the client a small amount, just enough to compensate for their pride.”

“And then you went into private practice and made that your business model?”

“Yeah, basically,” Rhett blushed. The idea sounded preposterous coming from Charles in this moment, but he wasn’t far off. “I’m registered with the state as a public defender, as well.”

Charles grinned, shaking his head. “Saint McLaughlin,” He reached out a hand and met Rhett’s in the center of the table, his fingertips gripping at the baggy sleeve. “The underpaid, overworked, high-minded thing isn’t unattractive, you know.”

“I’m…” Rhett hesitated, his lips twisting up and to the side as color rose again in his cheeks. “Not...a saint.” His tongue darted out to wet his suddenly-dry lips. 

“Shit,” Charles’ gaze had turned toward the door over Rhett’s shoulder. 

“Is it important that I be a saint?” Rhett smiled, imitating sheepishness, reaching his fingertips for Charles’s bare forearms.

“No, sorry, not you. We need to go.” Charles stood abruptly, pulling on his jacket and fishing for cash from his wallet. 

Rhett glanced over his shoulder and immediately found the source of Charles’s sudden desire to leave the bar. Daniel Shearman, the District Attorney and Charles's boss’s boss’s boss, had just walked through the door. “Shearman drinks here?”

“Yes, and if you don’t stand up right now we’ll be here all night, get up!” Charles whispered.

On the way out of the bar, Charles exchanged quick pleasantries with the DA, introducing Rhett as a defense attorney with whom they’d be working and politely declining to stay for another drink. It was getting too late, he said, given that he’d be at the office in the morning, and the older man laughed, clapping both of them on the back. 

When they’d gotten around the corner, Rhett waited for an explanation as Charles pulled up the Uber app on his phone. “Charles? Why are we running away from the DA?”

Charles took a moment to hit the button that would call a car to their location before looking up at Rhett. “Monday through Thursday, I’d go down on someone to get ten minutes with the guy. But on Fridays, he gets trashed and stays at the bar til 3. It’s a pretty well-known issue of his. I thought hanging around would get me an in when I first started this job, but I realized pretty quickly that he never remembers what he says. It’s just a waste of a Friday night.”

“Oh, wow... He recognized you, though, it seemed like,” Rhett shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly in the oversized suit jacket.

Charles had looked back down at his phone, scrolling through the emails that he really would have to address in the morning, but his head snapped up again. He squinted, his face a mixture of surprise and an attempt at discerning whether what he’d just heard was a joke. “Rhett. Of course he did. He’s a politician.” 

“Okay, okay, geez,” Rhett held up one hand in surrender, the other still holding the heavy briefcase at his side. He didn’t want to push Charles on what had happened during those late nights, or on his suspicion that Walter Neal could get his son a meeting with the DA on a weekday. “So uh,” one of his eyebrows arched up comically, “You’d go down on someone for a meeting, huh?”

A black sedan appeared in front of them at the curb and Charles took a step toward it, turning back toward Rhett and flashing a smile. “I never did get that meeting, but his assistants are really cute.”

 

“You know what, you can just drop me off here, too, thank you so much.”

Charles had offered to share the Uber, to add Rhett’s further-flung apartment complex as the final destination, but in the eight-minute ride from the dive bar to the swanky building where the car had just stopped, things had changed. When he’d gotten into the sedan, he’d been blushing at the thought of Charles hooking up with the DA’s assistants, whoever and however many there might be. In the second minute, he could feel Charles’s eyes on him, and the six-foot-seven-inch man felt as though he were under a microscope, knowing after only a few hours the intensity of those deep blue eyes. In the third and fourth minute, Charles grazed his hand against Rhett’s on the leather seat between them, then linked their smallest fingers. Rhett’s heart raced, his vision clear despite the slight buzz from the whiskey, and in the seventh minute, he cursed a red light that prevented them from reaching the destination marker on the driver’s app more quickly. 

Rhett was now unfolding his legs from the backseat and dragging his briefcase along. He was careful not to slam the door behind him, and Charles, having exited the car from the other door, appeared at his side. “Well since you’re here, would you like to come up?”

“I didn’t mean to be presump--”

Rhett’s apology was cut off as Charles grabbed his free hand and dragged them both toward the door, past the concierge who nodded politely from the front desk, and into an elevator. Charles released his hand, but held his gaze, taking hold of Rhett’s drab green tie and pulling, bringing their mouths together into a kiss. With his free hand, Rhett sought out Charles’s waist, accentuated perfectly by the well-tailored suit, but with a ding, the elevator arrived at its destination.

Charles’s lips left Rhett’s, but he kept his grip on the tie, tugging gently until they were moving quickly down the hall. At the door, Rhett’s hands roamed Charles’s torso under his jacket as Charles fumbled with his keys, his hands finally managing to unlock the door as Rhett’s threatened to undress him there in the hallway. 

Inside the simply furnished apartment, Charles led them to his bedroom. As they crossed into the room, a palm in Rhett’s chest slowed him down, prevented him from removing the jacket from Charles’s shoulders. “Not so fast, there,” Charles breathed. “Let me.”

Rhett nodded, chuckling as Charles removed his jacket and placed it on a cedar hanger. When he stepped back toward Rhett, he reached up to the broad shoulders hidden under the excess fabric and, despite both of them knowing Rhett’s suit wasn’t used to any kind of special treatment, removed it for him, placing it on its own cedar hanger next to the expensive jacket he’d just taken off. 

Somehow, Rhett was larger than he had looked before. He was over six-and-a-half feet tall, and his frame, unhindered, wasn’t as quite as lanky as it had appeared in the bulky suit jacket. Even so, his hands were soft and delicate as they worked at the buttons on Charles’s shirt and tipped his chin up for a series of kisses. He began to slip off his shoes and socks as Charles removed first Rhett’s tie and then his own. 

When Rhett’s hands roamed back to Charles’s belt, they were urged on by a tug at his own. Rhett’s lips gradually deepened each kiss, but his fingers moved urgently as he removed their clothes. Charles’s mind raced with plans for this gentle giant; the possibilities seemed endless. 

“Why wouldn’t you look at me in the car?” Charles asked, his back against the wall, kissing Rhett’s chest as he tossed his undershirt aside. “I almost thought you weren’t interested.”

“I didn’t want to mess up your Uber rating,” Rhett breathed against Charles’s ear, a husky laugh accompanying his reply. “God, you’re hot,” he huffed out, missing a breath as he found his own back against the wall. 

Charles trailed his hands down Rhett’s chest and stomach, eliciting a sharp intake of breath when they reached their recently-unclothed destination. He worked at Rhett’s dick and his neck until the taller man pushed himself off the wall, taking Charles with him onto the bed in the center of the room. 

Their breathing quickened as they readied each other for what would happen next, their mouths making contact with any skin they could find and their hands taking direction from one another’s movements. Charles rolled Rhett onto his back, straddling him for a while, taking both of them in one hand, then rolled himself back onto the bed, pulling Rhett onto him and bringing their lips together as Rhett rolled his hips down. Finally, after a few moments of expecting Charles to stop him and reach into the bedside table, Rhett asked, “you uh, do you have condoms?”

Charles planted another kiss on Rhett’s lips before wriggling away to the bedside table. “Yeah, here,” he picked out a couple of condoms and a bottle of lube from the drawer. Rhett had placed himself at the top of the bed, his back straight against the headboard, and Charles crawled onto his lap. Taking Rhett in his hand again, he leaned forward and whispered, “I’m... flexible.” 

“I’ve noticed,” Rhett grinned, massaging Charles’s thighs. Picking up a condom from the bed, he dropped it into Charles’s palm. “Dealer’s choice. Where do you want me?”

“Oh. Uh, I just assumed…” Charles drifted off, his breathing quickening again as Rhett watched him. He’d assumed Rhett would let him know what he needed, what he wanted from him. Instead, Rhett raised an eyebrow, grazing his hands over Charles’s body, squeezing as his hands cupped the small, shapely ass Charles had grown proud of. 

“I want… Fuck me, Rhett. I want you to fuck me.”

Rhett gave a little nod, as if to say _I can do that_. He shifted his legs, bending his knees up to create a backrest for Charles and to lift him slightly, giving Rhett the access he needed. 

The proximity was nearly overwhelming, the position allowing Rhett to look into Charles’s eyes as he dripped lube onto his fingers, then, with a kiss, took Charles into his slick hand before reaching it back to his entrance. 

Charles moaned, closing his eyes and focusing on the sensation as Rhett pumped him with one hand and fingered him with the other. “God, that’s good. Wait, okay? Just one right now. Yeah, like that,” Charles directed, his hands behind him on Rhett’s knees as he held himself up. 

Charles stared Rhett down, admiring his broad shoulders, his short beard, his eyes, which, for this moment, appeared deeply green. He leaned in for a kiss and rested his forehead on Rhett’s. “Okay, two now. Just go slow,” he added, taking Rhett in one hand and draping the other around Rhett’s neck. Rhett applied more lube to his fingers, heeding the request as he returned them to their work. He grinned as Charles breathed out a sigh. “Yeah, that’s good. It feels so good right now.”

 

“Oh god,” Rhett gasped under his breath. Charles had begun to roll his hips, taking over control of the pace from Rhett’s fingers. He was moaning quietly, both of his hands on Rhett’s shoulders, gripping tightly, his well-manicured nails beginning to dig into Rhett’s skin. Even as Rhett went untouched, he was hard now, fully ready to take over for his fingers. The sight of Charles, the feel of him, could only be made more perfect when he was inside him, and Rhett found himself fighting to focus on his task. 

He began testing his third finger at the lube-slick skin, preparing it to join the other two. “Do you want more?” 

“I sure do,” Charles smiled slyly, reaching for the condom. If his reaction to Rhett’s fingers suggested it had been awhile, his expert application of latex and lube to Rhett was enough to indicate otherwise. He slid himself down Rhett’s legs, bringing their torsos within inches of one another, as he reached between them to line Rhett up at his entrance. “Slow?” He nodded toward Rhett and waited for the responding nod of understanding and agreement. 

The solid wood headboard helped steady Rhett as he urged himself to remain still, taking in the sensation of Charles slowly sinking down onto him and knowing he couldn’t push for more, not yet. His patience would be rewarded, he knew, if Charles’s movements on his fingers were any indication. Without any way to speed himself toward that moment, and with Charles controlling both his own dick and Rhett’s, Rhett allowed his hands to roam the lithe body that was resting back on his legs. 

“God, you’re hot,” he breathed again into Charles’s chest, circling his tongue around his nipples as he held his hips loosely. The skin under his hands was glistening, flushed with effort. Rhett lapped at Charles’s nipples, then gently blew air across them, smiling as Charles reacted, shivering and sucking in his stomach.

“So I’ve heard,” Charles grinned, leaning forward and moving his hands to Rhett’s neck. As he brought their lips together, he began moving his hips, and Rhett knew he’d been right to be patient. It was an attack on his senses, Charles’s tongue exploring his mouth as he sat flush against Rhett’s lap, grinding his hips slowly. He made small noises as he moved, murmuring happily about how good Rhett felt.

As he grew more certain, moving more quickly, his hands roamed Rhett’s chest, the broad shoulders, the muscular arms, and he found himself whispering, “You’re so big.”

Rhett had heard _that_ before. As a younger man, he’d believed it was commentary on the size of his dick, but he’d soon learned the truth. _You’re so big. You’re a giant. How are you so tall?_ He’d now heard every variation of the expression as his lovers marvelled at his long frame. And he knew how to take care of a man who wanted to be fucked by a tall guy.

“So I’ve heard,” he replied, echoing Charles, Rhett’s closely-trimmed beard tickling his neck. He kissed his mouth, taking Charles’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You look really good like this, Charles. But I think it’s time you let me drive.”

They rearranged themselves, Charles humming his approval as Rhett reapplied lube to them both and pressed his entire frame onto Charles’s, enveloping him. He began again slowly, allowing Charles’s body to adjust as he spread him out on the bed. Charles’s face was pressed down into a pillow, his legs were pinned down at the ankles, and his torso was framed by Rhett’s elbows. 

This was what Charles had in mind as he lusted for Rhett – it wasn’t often that someone towered over him like that, and the feeling of Rhett’s body touching him all at once, from his head to his toes, was intoxicating. The fact that Rhett had been patient and gentle only made him more attractive, and if they ever did this again, Charles might reciprocate the careful attention. But right now, he was ready for Rhett to take charge. 

As Rhett bottomed out in him, Charles inhaled a sharp breath of anticipation. But the sound was misconstrued, and Rhett went still, waning patience and the effort of concentration in his voice as he whispered, “Was that too fast? Do you need to get back on top?”

The pillow shook as Charles exhaled, disappointed despite himself at Rhett’s control. He reached up to Rhett’s neck, pulling their heads close together. “I said I want you to fuck me, Rhett. I want you to fuck me right now. Can you do that?”

“Damn right,” Rhett uttered, shifting his hips as he did, thrusting slowly and picking up his pace as he became more sure of his movements. “Now, I don’t want you thinking me fucking you so good means you owe me a favor or anything.” 

Charles prepared to say “You think being bottom means I owe _you_ a favor?”, but Rhett knew what he was doing, hitting a spot that made Charles instead mutter “God, yeah, there. Right there, shit.” He bit down on the pillow, his moans muffled as he felt his orgasm building. He sought friction from his soft cotton sheets, arching up into Rhett, and, not quite finding enough, reached back, attempting to somehow pull Rhett closer. 

“Uh uh,” Rhett grabbed Charles’s hands and laced their fingers together, spreading out his arms and pulling Charles up onto his knees, one set of hands holding up their bodies as the other wrapped around Charles’s dick.

Rhett slowed himself, pressing their bodies together and rocking his hips. Charles controlled the hands that stroked him, finishing what Rhett had so masterfully started.

“Rhett, I’m coming,” was all the warning Rhett got, groaning and nearly falling forward at the feeling of Charles pulsing around him and coming onto their joined hands. For his part, Charles continued to push back onto Rhett, coaxing him to come with him. 

“Do you want me to pull out?” Rhett’s voice was breaking, his breath hitching in his chest, and Charles knew he was close. He pulled Rhett’s hand to his mouth, licking his own come off of their fingers. “Finish fucking me, Rhett.”

Charles wrestled one hand free and buried his fingers in Rhett’s slightly-shaggy hair, pushing back to meet each of the continued thrusts. He bucked and moaned, loudly encouraging him, until Rhett saw stars.

 

They collapsed together on one side of the bed, the evidence of Charles's pleasure marking the other, and Rhett began to doze off. 

“Hey McLaughlin?”

“Yeah?” Rhett smiled at the use of his last name, the formality in a decidedly informal environment. 

“We should do this again sometime.”

Rhett hummed his approval, allowing his eyes to droop closed, until Charles moved his lips to Rhett’s ears and said softly, “Apparently I owe you a good fucking.”

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments and kudos would be very much appreciated! <3
> 
> And come find me on Tumblr as [clemwasjustagirl](http://clemwasjustagirl.tumblr.com/) if you're into that kind of thing.


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